To The Stars and Back
by raikis
Summary: Your legs take you as far as you're meant to go in life. But what if you held anothers life beside your own? How far would you be willing to go? Nalu AU


a/n: while typing up the chapters for my other works, i suddenly thought of this and was like _yes._ so i typed it up and halfway through this i didn't know what i was doing. and the end—i suck at endings, i'm sorry. enjoy? :)

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><p><em>i saw a shooting star<em>

_and i thought of you_

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><p>To The Stars and Back<p>

. .

.

She had first seen him in the middle of the street, drunk off his ass, and yelling at everything that made so much as a squeak. He would hurl his glass bottle at cars that would honk their horn at him and cursed them up until they jumped out of the car to either yell back, or try to confront him. He seemed angry at something or everything, but no one—not even herself—could tell what it was. He would just stand or sit there in the street, the middle of the high way, and hold up traffic. People would scream, yell, and beg for him to move, but he wouldn't. The bottle of alcohol he had gripped in his hand would then find its way to his lips as he ignored them, tuned them out as he continued to numb himself with the whiskey, a drink that's always made her cringe. But she found the way his salmon-colored hair spiked and ruffled at every soft gust of air breathtaking, and the way his throat moved at every chug of alcohol he consumed mesmerizing.

It was a quarter to midnight, and Lucy couldn't take her eyes off him.

She stood along the railing along the street, watching the scene with parted lips and gazing eyes. He was clouding her as she drunk in the site of him, from his dark clothing to the tanned color of his skin. His voice was husky and hoarse, and sent waves of tingles up and down her stomach and chest. She was seemingly unfazed by his verbal shouts and acts of violence towards the ones confronting around her, or the way he smashed his bottle to the ground at his feet. They made eye contact for a moment as he wobbled on his weight, the alcohol having the effect he may have wanted on him. She watched with a drumming heart as he shuffled his way over and grabbed the railing in front of her. He then grabbed the sides of her neck and jaw line and leaned forward until his lips came in rough contact with hers. His lips tasted of whiskey and the kiss was clumsy, but at the moment the pounding of her heart and the burning of her cheeks were showing she didn't care.

It was a quarter to midnight, and Lucy had fallen in love.

. . **o** . .

She had first met him in a dark valley on her way home. Mouth covered and voice muffled, she was forcibly pulled between two buildings by a group of people she had never seen. They looked like street-crawlers as the city folk called them, people who lived on the streets and picked up valuables whenever and where ever they could. She was pinned to the ground by her arms and knees and she felt the weight of one above her and the cold tongue that trailed over the edge of her ear and neck. The sickening laughter and snickers brought tears to her eyes as she felt wondering hands move north of her body, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Soon there were some grunting and yelling before the weight on top her was lifted and a silence fell. When she opened her eyes, he was right there next to her.

"You alright, blondie?" He grunted, wiping some fresh blood on his knuckles into the dark fabric of his pants.

She looked down to the unconscious men beside him and finally comprehended what happen and let the tears fall. She sat up and buried her eyes in the palms of her hands as her knees came to her chest. Tears dripped down to the gravel she was sitting in and her sobs echoed in the empty valley they were in. His movements sounded as he moved next to her, shifting the gravel under his shoes as he scooted up against the wall behind them. He did not touch her, but just his presence was enough to calm her.

After her cries slowed and died down, Lucy wiped her face damp and looked at him from the corner of her eyes. He was leaned back against the brick walling with eyes closed and legs laid out in front of him. His arms were folded limply under his chest and his breathing was a little uneven, showing her he was still awake.

She stared, taking the image in. He was sober, she thought thankfully, but it was painful. Their kiss was one-sided, him being drunk when it happened. The doubt that he remembers that night was strong to her. She frowned and looked away, feeling her chest squeeze tightly.

. . **o** . .

She had first learned his name by the river on her way home. He was drunk with a glass bottle in his hand as he trotted down the sidewalks, bumping into people and scowling at everything. The direction he was heading in seemed to be nowhere as he numbly moved his legs and kept moving, and she followed. They made their way from the city and toward the river banks where the loud noises of cars and people can barely be heard. The sounds were used as background noises as they walked, and there was a moment he had turned his head and paused as he noticed her, decided something, then resumed walking.

He cursed, dropping his bottle and bending down to pick up. It took him a few moments as he tried to register where the bottle was on the ground before grabbing it and leaning back up. She paused in her steps and griped the shoulder strap of her bag and waited for him to compose himself. His jacket had slipped off his right shoulder and gave her a perfect view of his collar bone and muscular arm. He was wearing a grey muscle shirt, as the boys call them, which had black lining along the collar and arm holes. His black belt was undone and so where the zipper and button of his jeans, as well as the laces of his shoes.

He was a mess, but had style, she thought. She slowly resumed her walking as he began moving again. He was unable to stay in a straight line as he walked, she noted. Maybe he had too much to drink. But before she could put more thought into it, he whirled around and pointed at her, taking her by shock.

"Stop following me!" He hollered, taking a quick gulp of his drink. Lucy hummed and looked away, ignoring him. She felt him studying her, "You're a pretty one I admit," He muttered, "but I have no money to give ya, so scram!"

Lucy furrowed her brows at his indirect comment and balled her fist, "I'm not a whore!" She yelled, bringing a grin to his lips. Is that really what he thinks of her? She's not following him in hopes of business!

"Then what are ya doin' with a body like that, blondie?" He asked, staring below her neck-line and along her abdomen. "I say it's a waste."

Lucy narrowed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly regretting wearing a skirt. "It's _my_ body and no one else's. ." She grumbled. But the smirk he wore and the way he nodded, accepting her response, made her heart thump in her throat and her sudden spark of anger subside. She then felt her cheeks start to burn as he threw his head back to get the last drops of alcohol from his bottle, watching the way his throat moved at every gulp before their eyes made contact again.

"Good good, stay that way," He belched a bit as he moved his way to the edge of the ditch and threw his emptied bottle far into the river, "If anyone touches you come find me, I'll beat their ass." His jacket slipped down to the folds of his arms as he whirled around to face her again. Lucy watched as his footing slipped from under him and gasped as he slipped back into the ditch, cursing.

"Oh, my gosh!" Lucy ran to the lining of grass at the edge of the ditch, finding him on his back laughing hysterically with his arms spread out beside him. She sighed a breath of relief and allowed herself to smile, "Are you okay—" Her heel slipped on the moist soil beneath and found herself sliding down on her back and toward him. He didn't seem to notice until she hit the bottom and was forced on top him with her legs straddling his hips. Her hands gripped the grass beside his head as her forehead nearly came in contact with his. She blush darkly at the close conduct and lack of space between them and went to move, but found that his arms had locked themselves around her waist.

"Feisty and dominate, I like it!" He laughed, tightening his grip to crush her body into his.

"N—No! I slipped I—I didn't mean this!" Lucy sputtered, trying to pull herself free from his strong hold.

"Tell me why you followed me and maybe I'll let you go." He said.

Lucy furrowed her brows and looked away, falling limp in his hold, "I wasn't following you. . I live this way." She mumbled. A total lie, really.

"Oh now you're lying!" His laughing ceased and his tone was replaced with a slight seriousness, "You live on the other side of the city, Missy. Now, why were ya followin' me?" He grinned.

Lucy sputtered like a nine year-old who was just caught red-handed and pushed herself up to where her face was hovering over his, wide-eyed, "H—How do you . . ?"

"Do you really think I would forget a face like this?" He asked softy, a whisper. His hand came up and brushed over her flushed cheek, feathering her skin warmly that made her heart flutter loudly, and she was partly sure he could hear it through the silence that fell between them. He then looked down and snorted and gestured at her chest, "Shouldn't those be orbiting the sun?"

Lucy gasped and shot up from his grasp and wrapped her arms around her chest, "Hey!" She turned her body on an angle to face away from him as he sat up from the ground and laughed.

"You're a weird one," He said, bringing a pout to her lips, "What's your name, blondie?"

"Usually a gentleman would introduce himself first." Lucy narrowed her eyes, flushing deeply.

He snorted, "I don't know about you, but I have no intentions to be a gentleman."

That was true, she thought with a sigh. He was still drunk out of his mind, "Lucy," She stated.

"Luigi. ." He sounded it out, grinning wider.

"_Lucy_." She hissed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She mumbled, pushing herself off the ground and extending a hand down to him to help him up, "What about you?" She asked, gripping her hand in his as she pulled his dead weight off the ground since he was still struggling with himself, "What's your name?" She questioned.

"It's—" He hiccupped and paused for a moment, "Natsu."

"Natsu. ." She liked it—she liked the way it sounded. Finally, a name.

"Ya know," He—Natsu—then leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye, "You're really heavy."

Lucy blushed in embarrassment and tried to push him away, but her attempts were half-hearted and weak—she wasn't even trying. She _wanted_ to be close to him.

"Where's my bottle?" Natsu mumbled, releasing his hold on her and started wondering, looking for the whiskey bottle he had thrown earlier.

"You threw it in the river."

"What!?"

. . **o** . .

She had first his friends in a bar called 'Fairy Tail'. His head of pink caught her attention through the rushing night crowds on her home and she immediately followed. He was tipsy she could already tell by the way he stumbled back into the bar, and she hesitated before walking in herself. She became surrounded by laughing and roughhousing people as they drank and fought playfully. They all seemed quite familiar with each other, she noted. Usually in the bars she knows of, the customers would just sit around and talk if even that. She spotted him at the bar hollering at a waitress, (who she found breathtakingly beautiful, by the way) and quickly made her way over to claim the seat beside him before anyone else did. He noticed the movement beside him whirled around, and brightened.

"Ayye it Luigi!" He slurred, slamming his palms down on the wooden surface of the countertop.

"It—It's Lucy . ." She mumbled.

"Hey Mira! Get sum whiskey for Luigi too!" He yelled to the bartender, waving his cup in the air and nearly spilling it.

"It's Lucy—and no! It's okay, I'll just have some a glass of water, please." She assured, earning a nod from the silver-haired woman who she now believes to be the definition of 'beauty'.

"Water? Uhhg I thought you had taste in drinks," Natsu slurred as he spun around in his stool with the rim of his cup to his lips as he narrowed his eyes around the bar, "Since ya know, you stole my whiskey that night by the river." He blubbered into his cup as he started gulping it down.

"I didn't steal your drink. . you tossed it into the river." Lucy sweat dropped. A glass of water was sat down next to her arm and she looked up to thank the waitress, Mira, as Natsu called her. She then watched, jaw-slacked, as the silver-haired beauty set four tall glasses of alcohol in front of Natsu before walking off to serve another. Natsu smiled widely and grabbed two cups, and she watched with widen eyes as he downed one and moved for the other. It wasn't long before all four were emptied and he was wavering in his stool and yelling again.

"Gaha! I win bastard!" Natsu yelled over his shoulder, nearly slipping out of his seat. She followed his eyes to where he was yelling and nearly screamed when a partly naked man slammed his body between them, obviously as wasted as Natsu was.

"Idiot, I've been done . . " The man ended up pausing to belch until he caught eye of Lucy behind him, and totally forgot about the salmon-haired drunken male he was talking to, "Ohh who'z this? Never seen you aroun here."

"I'm Lucy. . ," She answered nervously, trying to keep her eyes above his neck, but it was becoming a hard task. The man then slammed his cup down on the counter and held out his hand, and she hesitantly placed hers in it to shake it.

"I'm Gray," His lips found their way to her skin and placed moist kisses on top her hand, "Maybe sometime we could—"

"Fuck off, bastard!" Natsu suddenly shouted, kicking the man away and grabbing her wrist and pulling her into his lap, crushing her cheek into his chest, "I already called dibs!"

"Oh, my my," Mira giggled in front of them, making Lucy blushed harder than ever.

In the light of the moment (if there was any), she could make out the smell of spices and shampoo from the nap of his neck and the middle of his chest, the part she was being crushed into. And. . she wasn't sure what it was, if it was from the alcohol or the amount of movement he was doing, she can feel his heart throbbing quickly against her ear.

. . **o** . .

She first made love to him one cold night in a rundown motel. Of course, she had followed him with the natural curiosity she held and the worry towards him. He wasn't drunk and also had seemed to noticed her presence as they walked along the streets edge, but thankfully, he didn't mind.

It was not planned nor forced when they had started. Natsu had walked into one of the doors, glanced at her for a few moments, before closing the door behind him. Lucy remained outside hesitantly, in the cold, trying to decide if she should follow or leave.

Though, the fact that he walked into a motel was making her anxious. The thought of him meeting another woman here was painful and hard to actually comprehend, but it was enough to make her move her legs and march up to the door he had entered. She scrunched her face up and knocked on the door, waited a few seconds until the door swung open. Her lips parted a bit to speak, but Natsu pulled her in, not allowing her to utter a thing.

Lucy stumbled inside as the door was latched closed behind her and locked. One look around the room and she can tell that it was, indeed, just the two of them. Relief flooded her chest and limbs as her bag dropped to her ankles. Natsu walked around her and dropped down on one of the beds that were set up on the room and threw one of the pillows over his face as he switched the television on.

Lucy settled down in the chair beside the bed and sat there stiffly. No, she wasn't uncomfortable or scared—nervous, yes. They were _alone_; she comprehended for the second time. And not only that, they were in a _motel room_. The things people use for motel rooms are much more intense and passionate than sitting around and watching TV. And Natsu wasn't even paying attention to the television or whatever channel he had put on. She thought he might be resting by the way he was just lying there.

"Uh—" What to say what to say what to say? Awkward, was how she felt, really awkward. How he felt? Surely he looks comfortable unless he was currently crying under that pillow, she doesn't know. Though, gruelingly, she kind of hopes he is. . . she's a terrible human being.

"Hey—"

"Yes!" Lucy shrieked at the sudden sound of his and sat upright. There was a thick silence between them and she flushed. He was staring at her with wide eyes, out of shock of her outburst. And then he laughed, and she flushed even more.

Natsu pressed the pillow into his face as his body shook in laughter, "Your face!" He wheezed.

Lucy pouted and pushed her cheeks out, "My face is funny?" She muttered dully. He croaked something out along the lines of 'yes' and she huffed and crossed her arms. Next thing she knew he was right in front of her, kneeling on his knees trying to calm himself down. His palms pressed to her kneecaps as he heaved to catch his lost breath, "Na—Natsu?" Lucy yelped, flushing once again.

He was close. When did he get so close? He was just on the bed when did he _getinfrontofher_?

"You're a weird one," Natsu chuckled, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. They both paused when he finally looked up, and Lucy was sure all the air in her lungs was just sucked out.

Well yes, this was now certainly more awkward for her than before—not to mention nerve racking. She was physically unable to move as he bored into her, and was he getting closer? He seemed as hesitant as she was, maybe more, and it was a little easing.

Lucy swallowed, "I'm—" Barely a word out before he stood forward and claimed her lips with his. His rough palms brushed over her jaw line and her neck, pulling her closer into him. She went through a moment of shock before she allowed herself to melt into it, and bring her arms up around his neck. Natsu managed in their position to pull her up out of the seat, and was now backing them up toward the bed. She worked quick and pulled back, bringing her arms down to grip the ends of his shirt, but his hand stopped her.

"Wait," Natsu panted. Lucy sucked in a slow breath and looked up to meet his eye, "We don't have to go that far with this. ." He grinned a little, but it was forced, she noticed. Now that she was this close to him, she is able to make out some things. The color of his eyes, and his pointed teeth that showed when he smiled. The little things. But she can see it, yes, it was there. An emotion she had become stranger to in the past that was soaring in his eyes and hidden well in his expression. But she was nothing more than a pro to it and can see it clearly.

Broken, lost, sorrow, hesitation . . . it was all there.

And then she suddenly assumed—no—thought that that might be why he drowns himself. Numbing the emotions to keep them at bay.

But it had to be another thing she loved about it, she thought, it made him more human. It's what makes anyone human—a past, no matter what kind.

"It's okay," She mumbled, still gripping the ends of his top. Though she was still a nervous wreck, and she was sure her face was nine times darker than it usually was . . . she didn't care. "I love—" And again, his lips claimed hers. Clothing was shed and soon they were a tangled mass of bare limbs and sheets.

That night she saw the stars in his eyes.


End file.
